


Undercover

by MelyndaR



Series: Working It Out series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3106571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelyndaR/pseuds/MelyndaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sally is undercover, Sherlock decides to go undercover too, and strange, impulsive, but not necessarily horrible things follow throughout the evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was actually  _puzzled_ , John could tell. And it served him bloody right, too, for dragging him onto this apparently pointless stakeout. The so-called sociopath had, for some reason, become worried about what Sally Donavanwas doing in her free time after work, which had led to the eventual demanding of their current situation. Parked on a street late at night in what was most definitely not one of the better parts of London - and heaven knew John had not the slightest idea what this was supposed to have to do with Sally Donavan.

He told Sherlock as much, and his flat mate responded with a distracted, "I believe her safety is being compromised by Scotland Yard" while keeping his gaze trained on a spot on the opposite street corner.

"What is that supposed to mean?" John inquired from where he was sitting in the passenger seat. "You think she's actually going to show up here?"

"She's here already," Sherlock answered before asking, "Now, do you see that maroon car over there?"

"Yeah?" John answered in confusion, realizing that this was going to be one of the times it was best to just let Sherlock have his way without too many questions.

"Take off your jacket and go talk to the person inside of it. Distract him."

John asked incredulously, "What?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Sherlock hissed. "It's only Lestrade! Tell him you're here alone - that I sent you to check up on my homeless network or something."

John did a double take of the profile of the man in the other vehicle, and realized that it did look a bit like it might be the DI. "And why do I need to leave my jacket?"

"I need it," Sherlock said without further explanation. "Now go distract Geoff."

"Greg," John corrected before giving up and shrugging his jacket off.

He tossed it into Sherlock's lap, climbed out of the car, and headed across the street to follow his former flatmate's instructions.

* * *

When John started across the street, Sherlock switched his own coat for John's jacket, divested himself of his scarf, and grabbed a cap that had been left in the back of the vehicle, putting it on. Satisfied that this meager disguise would be enough in the darkness of midnight, he got out of the vehicle and went toward the street corner opposite John and Lestrade.

There was a prostitute standing on said street corner that Sherlock would like to keep his identity a secret from, at least for a minute.

Sneaking around so that he came upon the woman from behind, and could stay in the darkness of the shadow of a conveniently placed building, he asked in a voice that was forcibly higher than his own, "How much?"

The woman started and whirled around to face him, giving him a clear view of her face. He barely refrained from swearing, deciding that he might just have to make good on one of the ways he had come up with to kill Lestrade. What was the DI thinking sending  _Sally_ out here - least of all, dressed like she was? Certainly she was undercover for one reason or another, but still, that didn't mean that Sherlock had to like it.

Apparently having taken on a character of her own, Sally righted herself and assumed an aura of icy curiosity as she answered in a thick cockney accent that was not her own, "Depends on what you want."

"Just you, love."

True - and funny how he could say it here in this setting, but hadn't quite been able to achieve it before anywhere else. Here at least it was just a part of the character that he himself was playing.

"That's kind of a vague description, there, gov," she deadpanned.

"How's about just a little kiss and see what happens, huh?" Sherlock suggested.

She snorted, but when he didn't move out of the shadows, she stepped up to him - but didn't make a move to do anything more. Sherlock hesitated - this probably  _really_ wasn't the right way to go about getting her attention in a romantic way - before he craned his neck out far enough to touch his lips to hers. He meant to move carefully and to be conscious of his every move lest his disguise somehow be compromised, but his body had a mind of its own. Before it had quite registered what he was doing, he had stepped closer and pulled her to him, surprised when, at the flick of his tongue across her bottom lip, she actually allowed him to deepen their kiss.

When his hands moved of their own volition from her waist to go beneath the fringe of her revealing tank top, she took a step away from him, eyes sparkling merrily, smiling as she whispered, "Not in front of Lestrade, okay?"

Shocked more by her words than the sudden cold of the night against his face, Sherlock's expression pinched as he asked, "What did you just say?"

Sally smirked, looking at him in amusement as she repeated, "I said, not in front of my boss, freak."

"You know it's me," Sherlock realized with a healthy dose of surprise.

"Of course I do. I saw John cross the street and figured you couldn't be far behind. Besides, I've got an earpiece in right now; if Lestrade had seen you come up and thought you were a threat, he would've told me to get away from you."

"Sneaky," Sherlock accused.

Sally shrugged, looking proud of herself as she inquired, "How does it feel to be beaten at your own game?"

"Not beaten, just matched," Sherlock corrected before looking over her shoulder and adding, "And perhaps not even that. I believe that is your original target of the night approaching at seven o'clock."

"Brilliant," Sally said, ducking out from under Sherlock's arms where they had been laced behind her neck. "Go sit with John and Lestrade. I'll join you in ten minutes or less."

Sherlock frowned before receding back into the shadows, far enough that neither Sally nor their perpetrator could tell that he was still within shooting distance if he needed to be. Another perk of having John's jacket on - the army doctor had left his handgun in the pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

Their man approached Sally, wearing a leering smirk much like the one Sherlock himself had adopted only a couple of minutes ago. He cringed, wondering if his expression had turned Sally's stomach the way the other man's did his. A few seconds more and the clueless man's hand was brushing along Sally's arm. When he took a step closer to the sergeant, Sherlock moved a protective step closer to the duo as well, hand slipping into John's jacket and grasping the cold metal of the doctor's gun. That was the same moment that Sally chose to make her move. One quick, unsuspected twist and she was standing behind the man who was now handcuffed.

Sherlock drew John's gun and approached as the perpetrator let out a string of vicious curses when Sally smiled and proudly informed him that she was a part of Scotland Yard.

She glanced over at Sherlock, raising her eyebrows at the weapon he held at the ready before she said cheerfully, "Looks like our friend here's ready to be introduced to the DI, yeah?" Sherlock glowered murderously at the man until Sally rolled her eyes and moved to tug the arrested man across the street, asking over her shoulder, "Are you coming, freak?"

Sherlock obediently jogged to her side, daring to ask while they were still out of Lestrade and John's hearing range, "If you knew who I was, why, when I kissed you, didn't I get... I don't know…"

"Slugged?" Sally suggested.

Sherlock nodded, trying and failing to catch her eye as they walked.

"Because... well, I dunno. I just didn't feel like having any reciprocated punches, I guess."

"Liar," Sherlock said easily, looking away from her with a casual and barely concealed grin. "Besides, I would never actually hit you." He waited a moment and added to ease the strange air suddenly flowing between them, "The verbal swings are much too fun to settle for anything less."

Sally snorted at that. "Sure, freak." She glanced at him sideways and that time he caught something like genuine affection in her dark chocolate eyes. "Whatever you have to tell yourself."

"What I tell myself is much more honest than what comes out of my mouth, sergeant. I doubt you would appreciate the former above the latter."

"Try me, I dare you," Sally answered just before they cut the conversation off due to their proximity to her boss and his flat mate.

"Good work with this guy, Donovan," Lestrade said approvingly of the perpetrator as he opened the door to the backseat of the car and Sally helped the man into the back. As he shut the door, Lestrade turned his gaze to Sherlock, admitting, "Not sure I know what to make of your act, though, Sherlock."

"Just trying to help out the ruse," Sherlock lied with a smirk. "It really is rather a weak cover, isn't it? A prostitute on the street corner and the very obvious parked car opposite her? He's blind not to have seen it."

Lestrade raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, muttering "He's not the only blind one" under his breath before he slid into the driver's seat of the car and peeled away, leaving Sherlock and Sally behind.

"Hey!" Sally protested loudly to the departing car. She huffed and turned to Sherlock suddenly more her moody self as she growled, "He was supposed to be my ride out of here!"

"Yes, well, I happened to notice John in his passenger seat," Sherlock commented.

Sally muttered an oath under her breath as she realized, "Those two are trying to set us up!"

The world's only consulting detective averted his gaze, afraid to see what would almost certainly be a scathing look in her eyes at the very idea.

* * *

Why hadn't she slugged him? Sally wondered as she stood there on the edge of the street with Sherlock. She wasn't really sure why not, or even if she wanted to consider some of the possible answers to that question.

She'd just decided to put it out of her mind for the time being when Sherlock volunteered helpfully, "If you'd like, you can drive mine and John's rental car to your place and then I can drive myself back to Baker Street."

Considering her strangely swirling emotions, Sally didn't much like the idea, but it currently looked like her only option, so she didn't have much of a choice.

"Fine," she nodded  _almost_ grudgingly.

Why wasn't Sherlock raking her ire up as high tonight as what he normally did? It certainly wasn't for lack of trying on her end!

Sherlock nodded with a pleased albeit fleeting smile and tossed her the keys, saying, "You can drive. I daresay both of us would be more comfortable that way."

With that, the two of them slid into the vehicle and Sally started towards her apartment building. When the silence became too thick and uncomfortable, she thought to bring up a case that Lestrade had already said he was going to get Sherlock's opinion on, and they quickly delved into a surprisingly comfortable back and forth. By the time Sally pulled the car up to her apartment building, the conversation had gone from the case, to the wife of the victim, to Sherlock's rather legendary best man speech at John and Mary's wedding.

Quite without meaning to, Sally found that she had begun to enjoy the freak's company tonight.

And that was when she heard herself ask  _Sherlock Holmes_ while  _smiling at him_ , "Would you like to come in?"

"Ah," Sherlock paused and Sally saw him glance at the clock on the dashboard before giving a barely noticeable devil may care shrug and saying, "Alright."

What the bloody heck was she doing, Sally wondered, leading him up the steps of the apartment building. Since when did she invite  _Sherlock bloody Holmes_ of all people into her house? Should she be worried that he now knew where she lived? Surely not. But what about that little scene back at the street corner? The kissing? She should definitely be worried about the ramifications of that, right? Maybe… probably… but maybe not. Sure, Sherlock was a royal pain who put on more airs than the queen, but he'd meant what he'd said across town. He wouldn't actually hurt her on purpose. " _The verbal swings are much too fun…_ " for anything else to become of it _, right_? Maybe… but maybe not…

Sally winced at her unruly thoughts, forcing them away, and cleared her throat as she unlocked the door to her apartment. "Here we are," she said, swinging the door shut behind Sherlock. "Home sweet home."


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock's gaze swept quickly around the open floor plan and they both knew that he was deducing the place before he shifted his gaze back to her face as she offered, "Do you want something to drink? I need to stop by the store tomorrow, but I've got water and some red wine if you'd like either of those."

Sherlock hummed as he folded his long frame down onto the couch and answered, "Surprise me; you seem to be doing that quite frequently this evening."

Sally didn't know whether to smile or wince at what she knew was an honest statement, and so she settled for simply grabbing the wine out of the fridge. She  _needed_ a glass right now, so Sherlock would apparently be getting one too.

She poured them each a glass before falling down onto the opposite end of the couch as Sherlock and handing him his wine as she asked, "So, how did Mary react to your near ruination of her big day?"

 _"_ It can hardly be blamed on me, although I will say that she took what was apparently a very butchered best man speech in perfectly good spirits. We get along surprisingly well, her and I."

"You're friends then?" Sally asked, a bit of surprise sneaking into her tone.

Sherlock nodded, a not quite sincere smile falling from his lips as his thoughts seemed to take a different turn.

Sally hazarded what that turn might be when she offered carefully, not sure what to do with this sudden goodwill towards Freak, "But it's not quite the same, is it, between you and John?"

Sherlock blinked as surprise flashed momentarily through his eyes - eyes that narrowed upon her for another second, apparently sizing her up before he decided that she could be trusted and shook his head. "No, it isn't, but I think that one can hardly expect it to be. He's moved into a house and gotten married and is expecting a baby. I'm still the same Sherlock, and when it comes down to it, he's changed, I haven't and we're very nearly on separate pages in our lives."

"But you have changed." The words flew from Sally's mouth before she could register them - the second time that had happened tonight - but she knew they were the truth nonetheless. "When Molly was dating 'Jim from IT' you called him gay to her face, but when you met Tom, you kept your mouth shut about the obvious because you didn't want to hurt her again, and you've done things like that with more than just her so that I've seen. You've changed in a good way since you took that swan dive off of Bart's, and there are people who have noticed that." She felt heat climb into her cheeks as she realized what she'd just said, and finished lamely while staring into her wine glass, "Just so you know."

"Is that why… you let me… do what I did back there?" Sherlock asked hesitantly.

Why did he have to keep bringing that kiss back up?

"Possibly," Sally admitted just as haltingly. "I don't mind the idea of it so much now that it means kissing a better man than it would've before."

"Better than Anderson?"

Sally thought Sherlock was joking, but a darted glance at his face showed her a different story, and she answered carefully, suddenly realizing the seriousness of what this conversation just might be wading out into, "Definitely better than Anderson."

"A… good enough man…" he said as if the thought was an entirely new one to him. "To be willing to… kiss him again, maybe?"

Sally tried not to wince as she explained almost regretfully, "I promised myself that Anderson was going to be my last no strings attached guy."

"That's not what I'm proposing," Sherlock answered, the edge of surprise in his voice causing Sally to look up from her wine. "You're an interesting person. It takes a lot for me to say that, and when I do find someone I can say that about, I want to get to know them better. Sometimes the interesting people aren't good people for me to be around, but sometimes they are, and though I didn't always think so, I now believe that you would be one of those good people for me to get to know...possibly even on a romantic level? If the idea isn't too overly appalling to you?"

He finished the last part in a near whisper, and Sally found herself being quick to reassure him with words that were coming straight from somewhere other than her head. Surely not her heart?

"No, Sherlock, the idea does not  _appall_ me." She smiled hesitantly, admitting, "I think I'd like to get to know you better too. Maybe even on that romantic level."

"I confess, though, I am hardly well-versed in heartfelt romantic gestures."

"Well," Sally smiled with a challenge in her eyes. "I'd say wine and a kiss - or two, if you dare - is most definitely a good place to start."

She was  _flirting_ with  _Freak_! She should've been horrified, but at the moment she was far too taken up with watching him reposition himself so that he was sitting directly at her side.

A question swam plainly in his aqua blue eyes:  _was this okay with her_? In silent answer to that question, Sally found herself smiling encouragingly, setting aside their wineglasses, and  _kissing him_.

Her mind began to race within the second before Sherlock kissed her back, but when he did, she firmly pushed all troubling thoughts away, determined to enjoy what was happening here – whatever it was. Were it not for the fact that this man was Freak, she would be entirely okay with this situation. And why shouldn't she be? He was – when he wanted to be – a good, sweet, chivalrous man. Why wouldn't she enjoy the attentions of a man like that? Why _shouldn't_ she?

She should, Sally decided, not drawing back this time when Sherlock's hands began to wander. Whether or not he was Freak, she couldn't bring herself to care. He obviously wanted to look into a relationship with her, she suddenly wanted to try one with him – miracle of miracles – and so try it they would.


End file.
